


girls' night!

by SleepyMaddy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Missed Connections Exchange, also they should have let missy hypnotize people in the show so she's doing it a bit in this, and set mid s9 for missy, set post silurians and pre pandorica for amy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27290434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyMaddy/pseuds/SleepyMaddy
Summary: Amy Pond runs into a very interesting stranger who seems to have a few grievances against the Doctor
Relationships: Missy & Amy Pond (Doctor Who)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Missed Connections Exchange





	girls' night!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bossxtweed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/gifts).



> Written for the Doctor Who Missed Connections Exchange, with the prompt “Amy and Missy at a party”. This was very fun to write, and I hope you like it!

The Doctor was being nice.

More specifically, the Doctor was being _suspiciously_ nice.

It’d started a little while ago. Every trip with the Doctor was always incredible, but he’d started outdoing himself, taking Amy to grander and grander places. The Trojan Gardens, first, then Arcadia, and then he’d not even blinked at her suggestion of Paris, taking her for a spin at the Musée d’Orsay –which had ended with them meeting _Vincent Van Gogh_ in person.

Of course, it could all have been a coincidence. Or maybe it could have been his apology for the Brazil/Wales mix up –she’d dragged a sore throat for days after traipsing around that drill site when she’d dressed for Rio.

Except…

Except it wasn’t just the destinations. Actually, it was mostly the not-the-destinations part that created that unsettling feeling at the pit of her stomach.

The Doctor kept _looking_ at her. He’d done that before, obviously, but this was different –it wasn’t reproachful, or enthusiastic, or confused…

More like… _worried_.

It was never openly –she only saw it out of the corner of her eye, or when he thought she couldn’t see him, but it was _there_. Like he thought she might just burst into tears at any time. Unsettling, to say the least.

Then again, even more unsettling was the fact that she seemed prone to doing _just that_ , lately. She’d found herself wiping tears she couldn’t explain off her face at the most random of times, be it when she was making tea in the TARDIS kitchen in the morning or when she was putting on a favourite necklace she couldn’t quite remember buying.

It all piled up into a great big sign that something was clearly _wrong_ , but she wasn’t sure how to go about addressing it.

So instead, she let the Doctor continue his whirlwind tour of the universe’s finest.

This was the latest _too nice_ thing. She’d walked into the console room to find him wearing a tuxedo, complete with bowtie and top hat. After giving her enough time to make fun of his getup, he’d pompously declared that they were off to a _proper_ party and that she needed to get changed, before shooing her off to the wardrobe. Not one to turn down an opportunity to dress up, she’d taken her time going through the selection of gorgeous evening gowns the TARDIS had apparently brought to the front of the wardrobe –she'd refused to consider that the Doctor might have done it.

She’d vaguely worried that she’d end up overdressed –god knew what the _Doctor_ considered a proper party, after all–, but he’d just nodded approvingly at her choice before landing them at their destination. The fact that he hadn’t complained about how long she’d taken was, once again, added to the _something is wrong_ pile.

As it turned out, her worries had been for nothing –on the overdressed front, at least. For once, the Doctor’s description had been completely accurate: the Tysana System Friendship Gala was a _proper_ party alright.

It wasn’t exactly a _friendship_ gala, the Doctor had explained as she’d gaped at the massive marble and gold hallways and generally gorgeous surroundings. _More like a “yay we’re not at war yet” gala_ , he’d said cheerfully as they’d weaved through the chattering crowds of well-dressed guests. It was thrown yearly on a state-of-the-art space station, which happened to be situated precisely at the midway point between the two inhabited planets of this solar system.

That wasn’t a coincidence; apparently, the two planets had been hostile to each other for as long as anyone could remember. There’d been half-hearted skirmishes, centuries ago, but somehow, the tensions had crystallized into something a bit different. Namely, each planet organizing a gigantic party every other year and trying to outshine their neighbour’s work. Bit unconventional, the Doctor had shrugged, but as it turned out, political tension was a great way to motivate party planning innovation. The Tysana Frienship Gala had quickly become _the_ place to be for the entire universal quadrant.

The Doctor’d have probably continued lecturing about the history of the Tysana System for a while longer, but, thankfully, as soon as they’d made their way into the main reception hall, his gaze had lit up after landing on one of the guests. He’d taken off almost immediately, rambling excitedly about a famous cheese maker he’d just recognized –she hadn’t asked–, before making a beeline straight for someone who, as far as Amy could tell, seemed to be a vaguely person-shaped sparkly pink mist wearing a bright orange tuxedo.

She’d left him to his own cheese-related conversations, deciding to explore instead, and enjoy the party while it lasted. After all, if experience had taught her anything, it was that odds were they’d end up discovering some kind of conspiracy and having to save everyone on board. After all, the Trojan Gardens had eventually been revealed to be housing a group of rebellious Plasmavores, Arcadia had turned out to be under the malevolent influence of a rogue Klista, and Vincent Van Gogh himself had been hunted down by an invisible monster only he could see; that was just what travelling with the Doctor was like.

And so, off she’d gone, exploring grandiose hallway after grandiose hallway, experimentally taking a sip of the bright green bubbly cocktail everyone seemed to be drinking –which turned out to taste uncannily like the mud and grass “cocktail” she and Mel had dared each other to drink when they were six–, and generally just trying to enjoy herself. The gala was a clear success, every room crowded with more species of aliens than she could begin to count, and everything shone and glittered in the warm, golden light.

It was beautiful, it was magnificent, it was…

Alien. It was marvellously, strikingly, _overwhelmingly_ alien.

It wasn’t that she’d expected humans. Despite the Doctor’s constant ranting about how humans really were _everywhere_ , and really, couldn’t they leave one corner of space well alone, she knew that there were probably loads of places with very little human life. It wasn’t even so much that it bothered her –after all, she did spend her time travelling with an alien. The _concept_ of being surrounded with aliens wasn’t a problem. Except…

Except most of the aliens she’d met so far had been somewhat human-looking. It was silly, and she knew that, because them being human-like never meant they were any less alien –just look at the Doctor–, but she couldn’t shake it. The people surrounding her were just openly, completely, utterly alien, and she suddenly felt very, very alone.

Not helping was that now almost familiar tightening around her throat and behind her eyes, that feeling that something _so important_ was missing, and which usually predicted a few surprise tears in the next few minutes. She couldn’t explain it, just like she couldn’t explain the way she kept reflexively turning her head over her shoulder to point out some especially beautiful or odd part of the scenery to, apparently, no one in particular.

A tear, traitorous and scalding hot, pearled at the edge of her lashes, and she swiped at it angrily, trying to pull herself together. Here she was, in a different _galaxy_ , at one of the most beautiful parties she’d ever seen, and she was _crying_? More than that, crying over nothing?

She straightened up with a huff. It was just… jet lag. Lack of sleep, more like, or even just the consequences of travelling on a ship which, as far she understood it, worked _outside_ of time. All she needed was some fresh air; a bit of space.

Small platforms curved along the walls of the reception hall, accessible via ornate staircases that seemed to be made of glittering glass, and bordered with delicate looking bannisters. The nearest one was also, she found when she made her way up, completely deserted, holding only a small settee barely large enough for two people and a small table. Up here, both the golden light and the sounds from the party downstairs were softened, leaving any guest free to enjoy the view.

And what a view it was: on the other side of glass so clear it was all but invisible, stars glittered, tangled together in clouds of blues, greens, and whites. Wisps of coloured light and gas swirled in a mesmerizing tableau that brought her right back to astronomy documentaries watched during boring rainy afternoons when she was a kid.

Well. She’d wanted space, hadn’t she?

Feeling oddly small, she stepped forward and sat on the settee, eyes fixed on the view. She’d go back to exploring a little bit later; this was the perfect thing to get her mind off of the odd thoughts that’d been bothering her all evening.

She was so absorbed by the sight that she didn’t register the newcomer until they collapsed next to her onto the settee. She jumped, turning to find a human-looking woman wearing a Victorian, dark purple dress and coat, as well as an elaborate hairdo. She was leaning against the arm rest at her side _very_ dramatically, using one hand to fan herself while the other held what looked a lot like a porcelain cup of tea.

“ _These parties_ , honestly,” she said in a pronounced Scottish accent and with a dramatic sigh. She shook her head, and the scent of lavender, strong almost to the point of being overpowering, filled Amy’s nose. “They’re so _gruelling_ , don’t you think?”

“I–“

“I mean, of course, they’re a necessary evil, but well. Could be more fun. I’ve got notes.” She took a sip of tea. “At least the drinks are decent.”

Considering Amy was pretty certain the only drink served was the bright green mud cocktail, she wasn’t sure _how_ exactly the stranger had managed to procure a cup of tea. Before she could ask, however, the woman winked at her.

“Oh, don’t question it,” she said lightly, before setting the cup down on the small table. “Now then. Amy. Amelia. How _are_ you?”

“You– know who I am?” Amy asked, her confusion only growing.

Thankfully, the woman didn’t seem offended in the least, instead smiling brightly. “Of course! Of course I know who you are, Amelia Pond, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Sorry, I, er–”

“Oh, of _course_.” The woman put a hand up to her forehead delicately, in a way that vaguely reminded Amy of old period movies where women fainted a lot. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been on my feet _all day_ , I don’t know where my head is at.” She lowered the hand before smiling at her again. “We have a friend in common.”

Amy’s gaze automatically slid back towards the reception hall she could glimpse from her seat. She didn’t have to think hard about it. “The Doctor,” she said, and the woman nodded.

“Precisely.” She readjusted a strand of her hair. “Just call me Missy.”

There was something about the grin she gave Amy that sent shivers racing across her back –or maybe something about those clear, ice blue eyes. “Missy? Is that short for something?”

She giggled, high-pitched and childlike and a bit unsettling. “Oh, _Amy_.” she said, like Amy had just told the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “You know, I think you and I are going to get along _splendidly_.”

*

“So you know the Doctor?”

Missy scoffed. “ _Know_ him? Oh Amy, I don’t just _know_ him, I know him better than anyone!”

Amy blinked. There was an unmistakable double meaning in the woman’s tone. “Wait. Are you saying you’re–”

Missy nodded with an ever so slightly smug look on her face, humming a confirmation.

“ _–also_ his wife?”

Missy stopped mid-move, her expression turning a bit sour. “ _Also_?”

“Well, yeah. River Song’s his wife, isn’t she?” Amy made a face. “How many wives does he _have_?”

“Oh, River, River, _River_ ,” Missy complained, rolling her eyes. “It’s always about the River, isn’t it.” She lifted an eyebrow, giving Amy a look. “Then again I suppose it’d make sense, coming from you.”

“Wha–“

“But _no_ , I’m not his wife. What we have, well, it’s… Unique. Much stronger than simply _marriage_.” She shook her head a little, before taking a sip of tea. “How about you then, poppet? Got a fella?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s–” Amy started reflexively, only to stop herself with a frown. “Wait, I mean, no. No, I don’t.”

Missy’s smile was barely noticeable behind her cup of tea, but the glint in her eyes was as unmissable as it was unreadable. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” she replied quickly –almost too quickly. She sounded defensive even to her own ears, but, well, she _was_ sure, wasn’t she? She shook her head with a short, uncomfortable laugh. “I’d know if I had a fiancé. Boyfriend, I mean. I mean–”

She wasn’t sure where she was going with that, and the uncomfortable prickling at the corner of her eyes was back; thankfully, Missy spoke again, sparing her having to chase that train of thought further. “Alright, alright. I’m just asking, you know, best make sure with humans. Head like a cheese grater, you never know what’s going to fall through the holes.” She shook her head with an indulgent click of the tongue, before stirring the tea with a tiny teaspoon Amy would’ve sworn hadn’t been there up until now.

Something clicked. “Wait, did you say _humans_? As in...”

Missy arched a delicate eyebrow, pausing her stirring. “I really hope you’re not implying that you thought I was human. Because _that_ would be very, very rude of you, indeed, my dear.”

Amy had, in fact, very much been thinking exactly this. She stammered the beginnings of a reply. “Oh, well, er–”

Missy sighed with another shake of the head, before putting the spoon down on the saucer in her lap – _when_ had she gotten a saucer? “So human-centric, always. I did tell you I’d known the Doctor for a very long time, didn’t I? Well, I meant it. A very, _very_ long time.” Her gaze turned insistent.

Amy frowned. “Wait, do you mean…” Missy nodded with a small, satisfied smile and a confirmatory hum, and Amy started trying to piece it all together. “You’re saying you’re… a Timelord?”

“Well, I prefer Timelady, if that’s all the same to you.”

“No, but you can’t be. The Doctor said–”

“Ooh, did he say he was _The Last_?” Missy said in an odd, high-pitched voice. Amy nodded slowly and Missy stuck out her bottom lip. “Aw. Yes, he’d think that. Poor dear, he always did take that to heart.”

“So you’re saying he’s _not_ the last?”

She made a dismissive hand gesture, scrunching her face a little. “ _Well_ , it’s complicated. As far as he’s concerned right now, he very much is.” She caught sight of Amy’s confusion and tutted, before setting her cup back onto its saucer. “Time travel, Amelia. It makes it all rather–”

“–Wibbly wobbly.” Amy completed automatically.

Missy paused, shooting her a look. “Well, I do have _some_ self-respect left, so _no_ , it’s not _wibbly wobbly_.” She let her gaze wander back towards the reception hall below them, silently mouthing _wibbly wobbly_ to herself and scoffing. “See, _this_ is why I never bothered with this one. I _knew_ I was onto something there.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re from his past?”

Another handwave. “His past, his future, same difference. Just... Not his current present, that’s all. To tell you the truth, I was actually aiming for an older version of his. No bowties, that’s for sure. Like I said, self-respect.”

Not much of what Missy was saying made sense, but Amy was definitely very glad to learn that the Doctor had some kind of bowtie-free future ahead of him. “And you ended up getting here too early?”

Missy made a face, clearly miffed. “Well _excuse me_ , we’re not _all_ travelling with cutting edge time travel technology. Some of us are stuck with _this_.” She briefly lifted her arm, giving Amy a glimpse of a bulky bracelet strapped to her wrist. “Cheap and nasty, and it gives me _terrible_ headaches, thank you very much, so, no, frankly, I don’t think it’s fair to say that _I_ got it wrong at all. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that I got it exactly right, and that the Doctor is the one who couldn’t have the decency to show up at the right age. I mean, _really_ , how hard can it be? I go to all the trouble of setting this up, and that’s _after_ that frankly _horrible_ thing he did to me last time I saw him, and he can’t even be bothered to show up at the right point in his timestream. The _ingratitude_ , honestly.”

At this point, Missy was starting to look genuinely distressed –although it was still so over the top that it was hard to tell what _genuine_ looked like for her. She was also talking _remarkably_ fast –very Doctor-like, in fact–, but Amy managed to pick out an important bit. “Hang on, what horrible thing? What did he do?”

Missy dabbed at the corner of her eye with an elaborately embroidered handkerchief that, for all intents and purposes, might as well just have appeared out of thin air into her hand. “Oh no, no, I couldn’t. I mean, for starters, if I were to list _every_ time the Doctor’s been a terrible friend, we’d be here all night. No, really, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t want to bore you.” She sniffed, as loud and dramatic as everything else she’d done so far. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear it, anyway.”

“I–”

“Oh you _do_? How kind.” She straightened up, looking directly at Amy with still misty eyes. “Well, might as well start from the beginning. Amelia, have you ever heard of a little thing called the _Death Zone_?”

*

“ _No_!”

Missy nodded gravely. “ _Yes_.”

Amy was scandalized. “He did _not_.”

“He _did_! Birthday present, right back in my face.” Missy sighed, forlorn. “I spent so long on it too! Hours and hours of work, it was basically _handmade_ , and all from recycled materials, so it was all _very_ eco-friendly to boot, thank you very much, and he just…” She made a pshh sound, miming an explosion with her hands. “Broke it. Right in front of my eyes. Just _destroyed_ it, but that’s not the worst part, oh no. Do you know what the worst part is, Amelia?”

“What’s the worst part?” Amy obligingly asked, riveted.

She sniffed. “Didn’t even say _thank you_.”

Missy had been recounting her –numerous– grievances against the Doctor, and while Amy had started somewhat unconvinced, she was now livid on the woman’s behalf. What kind of person didn’t say thank you to a handmade birthday present? “I can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d have _slapped_ him.”

Missy shrugged with a little deprecative smile. “Oh well, you know, I’m just not a very violent person by nature.”

Amy was still fuming on her behalf. “What was the present?”

The other woman made a dismissive sound. “Oh, that’s not important, some… toy kit, toy robots. He’d never _said_ he wanted it, but I’ve known him long enough to know that deep down he was _dying_ to have his own. But no, it came from me, so no, no can do, missus.” She tutted. “ _Désolant_ ,” she said in a surprisingly good French accent.

“And he does this sort of thing a lot?”

“Oh, _all the time_.” She waved a hand around. “Even when we were kids, it was always the same thing. Always has to be the centre of attention, that’s the Doctor. Every time I worked on a project, on anything, he just _had_ to swoop in and ruin it and take over. Honestly, it’s just, it’s very demeaning, you know? Of course, I understand it’s gratifying for _him_ , but it’s very inconsiderate, is all I’m saying.”

Honestly, Amy could see her point. “You know, he _does_ do that sort of thing a lot,” she said, frowning.

Missy clicked her fingers. “Doesn’t he just. That’s the Doctor for you.”

“You said he’d done something particularly bad last time you saw him?”

Missy nodded with a forlorn expression. “Do you know of the Daleks, Amy?”

She swallowed hard at the memories the name brought up –her time at the War Rooms had ended well, but it’d been far from a given. “Yeah.”

Missy seemingly picked up on her fear, and gently patted the back of her hand. “Precisely. _Well_ , me and the Doctor somehow found ourselves on a planet _full_ of Daleks. And I mean full, just– overflowing with the things, awful, absolutely awful. My vortex manipulator,” –she lifted the wrist to which the bulky bracelet was strapped– “was completely shot, all thanks to him, I might add, long story, but it did take me _ages_ to find replacement parts and was just generally not a fun time _at all_ , and anyway, meanwhile _he_ has his TARDIS with him, of course, and we’re trying to escape, obviously, and you know what he does?”

Amy was enraptured. “What?”

Missy held the silence for a few more, dramatic seconds. “He _leaves_.”

“No _way_!”

“He does! Just, pops on back to his TARDIS and up and _leaves_ me there. Just because we’d had a _wee_ little disagreement, he just… drops me. Like an old...” She stopped, seemingly unsure what to compare it to. “Well, like an old sock, really. Like I said, _very_ inconsiderate.”

It sounded a bit worse than just _inconsiderate_ ; Amy had half a mind to march downstairs, find the Doctor, and drag him back there by the earlobe so he could apologize. “I’m so sorry, that’s just genuinely awful.” She huffed a short, slightly bitter laugh. “If it helps at all, he did that to me, too. Not the Dalek thing, but the… leaving.”

Missy’s gaze was razor sharp. “What _ever_ do you mean, Amelia, dear?”

“Well, it wasn’t on _purpose_ –“

“No, no, no, don’t make any excuses for his behaviour. What happened?”

“Well, he was sort of… late. He crashed in my garden, and then he said he’d be back and he’d take me with him? Except he got the timing a bit wrong.”

Missy’s eyes narrowed. “How wrong?”

“Er. 14 years?”

“ _Fourteen years_?” Missy’s voice had jumped a full octave. “Well, he never _could_ drive, but this is ridiculous. Oh, _Amy_ , poppet, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she said, as brightly as she could. “He did come back, after all. Eventually.”

Missy shook her head, once again patting her hand while tutting sympathetically. “No, no, no, it’s not fine at all. You’re _much_ too nice to him. And the worst is, you didn’t do anything to deserve that!”

“I’m sure you didn’t either,” Amy quickly pointed out, quietly basking in the vindication.

“Ah,” Missy said with a contrived smile. “It’s not the same, you know, you’re just lovely, absolutely lovely, but I’ve had… I’m not always the _easiest_ person to get along with. Just recently, I had this… Well, this phase, I sort of got into politics. Dreadful, just dreadful, don’t ask, and I’m woman enough to admit that mistakes were made. By me –also by him–, by _both_ of us, you know, and I don’t shy away from that, and I understand that _some_ of my actions might have caused a _wee_ bit of harm and bother, but I’m _trying_ now.” She sighed, resting her chin in her hand and her elbow on the arm rest. “And that’s what’s so disheartening; I’m _trying_ to make amends, you know, I’ve been trying. The birthday gift was one thing, but even since then, he’s just… set in his ways. It’s like he won’t even _try_ to listen.”

“Typical,” Amy agreed with a nod.

“ _Exactly_. I mean, even just tonight! I go to _all_ this trouble, I find this place, I come up with a _lovely_ little plot for him to solve and be the centre of attention, since he just _loves it so much_ , I set up everything; the guest list, the explosives, the music, the death traps, the cocktails, the invading forces, the napkins –I mean, I learnt napkin origami for this, Amelia. _Origami_ , I tell you.” She paused, shrugging one shoulder and tilting her head. “I make a mean napkin swan now, at least, I suppose, but _all the same_! I go to all this trouble, and _then_ , he has the nerve to show up _too young_! I ask you, Amy, _what_ is a girl supposed to do, huh? It’s harrowing.”

Amy blinked a couple of times. “Sorry, you said the what traps?”

Missy ignored her completely, still caught in her rant. She patted her own cheek, apparently admiring her reflection in the glass in front of them. “It’s wreaking _havoc_ on my complexion, too, and no wonder! I mean, _really_ , the sheer _stress_ –”

“Did you say explosives?”

“Oh, never mind that. All this to say, I think I was justified in my anger today. Really, I just don’t think any outside party would blame me for being just a _little_ bit angry.” She breathed out a long breath. “Phew. I think I needed that. I’m exceedingly glad I didn’t decide to go through with my original plan of murdering you gruesomely all so I could watch the Doctor’s entire timeline unravel in front of my eyes–”

“ _What_?”

“–which, while it _would_ have been extremely cathartic, would also have created an _abominable_ mess. No, truly, I’m very grateful you turned out to be such a lovely person.” Missy grinned at her, and the contrast between the friendliness of the expression and the emptiness lurking behind the ice cold eyes suddenly made Amy feel as though she was standing on the edge of a very, very sharp drop.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, as Amy tried to process the extent of _what_ Missy had just said, but before she could come up with some kind of appropriate response –which, to be fair, she thought might take a while because _what the hell_ –, Missy spoke again, her brow creased in thought.

“You know what, in _fact_ ,” she said, her tone conversational, “I think I have an idea. I think I have a _brilliant_ idea.” She didn’t wait for Amy to react. “Because it’s really _such_ a shame that you and I never got to be friends, and spend more time together, all because you got unlucky, and ended up stuck with the… _bowtie_. But I don’t think that should stop us.” She stood, brushing out her skirt before smiling at Amy in a way that could only be described as spine-chilling. “After all, it’s not like we need the old man to have a good time, do we? We can have fun just as well –better, even, _much_ better– on our own.”

Amy’s mind was whirling, and for some reason, she was finding it increasingly difficult to detach her gaze from Missy’s cold blue stare. “Sorry, are you saying–”

“Yep!” Missy said in a high-pitched accent. She tilted her head quickly, her smile and eyes widening in an expression of faux delighted shock. “What do you say– girls’ night?”

“But–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back on time. He’ll never know. As it happens, _I_ can drive a TARDIS properly, thank you very much.”

It was getting harder to think –something about how _rhythmic_ Missy’s voice had suddenly gotten, or maybe about the glint that kept shining in her eye and catching Amy’s gaze. “But, hang on, I thought you _didn’t_ have a TARDIS?”

Missy made a face, like she was starting to find Amy a bit slow on the uptake. “Well, no, I don’t, but _he_ does. Surely you can remember where he parked.”

Something about that pierced through the haze. “You want to _steal_ the TARDIS?”

“Well it’s not like he got it legally in the first place, is it?” She frowned. “Did he not tell you he stole it?” A shake of the head. “That’s typical, that, always has to act so righteous.” She sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice had that odd, mesmerizing quality to it again. “Come on, Amy, what do you say? Want to have some _proper_ fun?”

Part of her was _screaming_ at the back of her head, hyperaware that something really, really wrong was up –but it was getting harder, and harder to focus, and that little voice was getting quieter, and quieter… Feeling like in a dream, Amy stood. “I–”

Missy’s face dropped. “Oh, absolutely _not_ ,” she said, her voice sounding normal again. The haze started to clear slightly.

“Wha–”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, _no_ ,” Missy continued, her voice moving well into _offended_ territory. She looked Amy up and down, having to lift her head to look at her face –she was shorter than her by a good head at least. “That’s just– That’s _ridiculous_ , I mean…” Her gaze stopped on the strappy stilettos Amy had picked out from the TARDIS wardrobe earlier with a prayer that there would be limited running involved that night. “What, and _heels_ , too? What, were you not happy _towering_ over everyone else as it was? At this point this is insulting, I mean, you’re just _rubbing it in our faces_ , reminding us oh poor regular-sized plebeians of just how tall and towering you are. No, really, insulting. I’m very disappointed, Amelia.”

Something about how bizarre the situation was and how genuinely vexed Missy looked made Amy almost start to apologize, before she realized that she’d be, as far as she could tell, apologizing for being _tall_.

Missy wasn’t done. “No, really, I can’t work in these conditions. You’re just as bad as the Doctor.” She sat back down on the settee with a hmph.

“Right,” Amy said after a few seconds of tense silence and… was Missy _sulking_? She looked it, anyway, arms crossed and bottom lip stuck out petulantly. “I think I’m just going to go, now.”

She started slowly walking backwards towards the staircase, with the vague impression that she was somehow _incredibly_ lucky to be able to escape at all. But before she could get out of sight enough to feel comfortable legging it, Missy lifted her head sharply in her direction, her eyes and voice again as odd as they had been earlier. “You can’t tell him, by the way.”

Amy stopped in her tracks. “Sorry?”

Missy smiled, and Amy realised it was the first genuinely amused smile she’d seen from the woman. “The Doctor. You can’t tell him you saw me. He wouldn’t know who I was anyway, and really, now that I’ve had time to think about it, this whole timeline unravelling plan sounds like more of a headache than it’s worth. So you can’t say anything.”

Amy swallowed hard against the distinct impression she was being threatened, even though there were no weapons in sight. “I won’t.”

Missy’s smile accentuated. “Good.” A sigh. “Then again, it’s not like you could actually _remember_ anything. You’ll probably have forgotten _all_ about this conversation by the time the ship’s core goes into meltdown. _Cheese grater_ ,” she added in a sing song voice.

“Melt–”

Amy never got to finish her question; instead, she was interrupted by the ship suddenly violently lurching, which almost sent her flying over the bannister and plummeting onto the rest of the party below. She managed to cling to the ornate iron, as the lights flickered and the ship filled with screams of terror.

“Catch you later, Pond,” Missy said at her back, her sharp smile somehow audible in the words. Amy started looking back, but before she could, something below caught her attention.

“ _Amy_!” The Doctor’s voice was unmissable even despite the cacophony, and by the time the ship felt stable enough for Amy to stand without help, he’d burst through the crowd below, top hat nowhere to be seen.

She was about to rush down the stairs to join him before he disappeared again, but something gave her pause. An odd tug, at the back of her head, and she took a second to look over her shoulder.

The space hadn’t changed at all –the empty loveseat, the great expense of the nebula behind the clear glass… Everything was in order. So why couldn’t she stop staring? She just couldn’t shake the feeling that something _else_ should be there–

Another lurch, this time sending her careening towards the window, broke through her haze, and she shook herself up; now was _not_ the time to focus on weird impressions. Calling after the Doctor, she dashed down the glass steps, paying no mind to the empty teacup on the small table or to the faint scent of lavender that lingered in the air.


End file.
